


answer ➡️ apologetics

by Anonymous



Category: Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Brother/Brother Incest, First time anal, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Things work themselves out.
Relationships: Torgrim/Atli (Vinland Saga)
Kudos: 1
Collections: Anonymous





	answer ➡️ apologetics

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [question ➡️ answer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23193322). My stuff generally involves Atli initiating, to get around consent issues with Torgrim being the older sibling and also the dominant personality in times of conflict. So I wanted to work out something fully consensual with Torgrim initiating.
> 
> (Torgrim makes a couple of comments that sound ominous, but those are more to take the full weight of the responsibility onto himself.)
> 
> @vincestsaga on twitter for more brocontent! Stay in your house and wash your hands!

The look and the nudge come after the worst night of Torgrim's life, and at first he can scarcely believe Atli has the nerve. What he wants to say is _Now? **Now** , you do this to me?_ After putting him through that night, and so soon after that it means the longest possible wait—but what Atli says to him is, "Next time," very quiet, and what he says back softly is, "Yeah, fine." And he knows he's forgiven his brother instantly no matter how much he wants to nurse the bad mood.

The next few weeks are a different kind of difficult. It's a physical madness that seems to be creeping in around the edges of Torgrim's life, and that's easier to cope with. He knows how to deal with sexual frustration. There's one Saturday where he's afraid the sight of his brother's shoulder blades is going to make him black out, but he recovers by putting Nefr in a playful headlock until it passes. Nefr does end up blacking out, but it's all right for him. He's got nothing to hide.

Torgrim's never been less interested in a raid. The only thing he cares about, with Atli moving at his back, is searching out somewhere no one else is going to be. The only place they ransack is an ugly little building with a bunch of straw shoved inside. Nothing of value there, except a little light, some shadows in the back, and enough space to see someone's shadow from the door before they can get inside.

"You know it's you going to be..." Torgrim nods down at the little bottles and vials he's been gathering. A few different kinds of oil and other viscous stuff. He wasn't sure how much it'd take. He doesn't want Atli screaming like he's heard girls do.

Atli doesn't meet his eyes. "Yeah."

"It's not going to mean anything," Torgrim reassures him. "It's just, it's got to go in somewhere."

"We've both thought about it already." His voice is resigned. "So whatever happens, it's already happened, inside, right? You might as well."

"I won't make it hurt." Torgrim pops one of the bottles open as if to show him it's not empty. "It won't be—you know, letting me _do_ things to you, it'll be like a favor, and you haven't lost a fight or anything, so—"

"I don't mind." Arli pulls his arms in to start taking his top off. "I don't know why I don't mind." He hesitates, arms still pulled in. "No, I don't know. Maybe you shouldn't. Knowing you have a brother who's..."

"I'll get you off after. We'll be trading, you use my hands or something." He can't stop looking at the bare skin just above the waist of Atli's trousers. He's going into fucking rut over this body he's seen every day of his life, the flashes of pale skin that have never been _shown_ to him before. His brother's a Norseman and his skin isn't for anybody to seize and plunder. It's just that Torgrim wants his hands on every inch of it and has for months. "It won't be like... like when other..."

Reaching out a hand from under the hem of his top, Atli tips the mouth of the bottle back up. Torgrim's been letting its contents leak while he stares. "I'm not worried about that so much. It might even be better if I don't like it."

Torgrim tosses the half-empty bottle aside. "Don't be fucking stupid. Get your shirt off and like it, or keep your clothes on."

Spread out before him in the moonlight, his brother's back and shoulders look as white as Freyja's. Meatier than hers must be, even though neither of them's had a farmer's build for a long time. Torgrim doesn't mind them on the bigger side, personally. The women they run down tend to have lightly muscled frames that tell the world they're no Freyja. Just poor laborers.

Atli doesn't put bulk on like some members of the band, but Torgrim knows where the strength's hiding in those arms. "Holy fuck," he marvels, running a finger down the line of his brother's spine.

"Oh, fuck." Atli's back arches up into his hand. "How's all this so hot? What happened to us?"

"Yeah," Torgrim answers, his attention taken up by the incredible way Atli's balls are peeking out from under him, through his parted legs. He's been seeing little flashes for a while now—hell, he's brushed up against them during baths and wrestling matches. Who doesn't, who has a little brother close enough to wrestle with? It's just, back then it was his baby brother. Now he's hiding out in a pile of straw with a man he wants to fuck.

They feel just like his own do. And his must look like this from the back, when he wakes up on his belly with a stiff neck. With his right hand—still dripping with probably too much oil—he traces a line up to the hole. 

"Shit," Atli says, hushed. "Give me some warning."

"Going in. Just a little bit. Getting you ready."

It's a funny feeling, something _alive_ squeezing round your finger like this. Torgrim delivered his share of lambs and such as a boy, but this is something tight and small and not meant to get wide. And it belongs to his brother.

"I'm sorry. I was watching first."

Torgrim scoffs at him. "You couldn't even pop out of Mom's twat first." He slides the other hand up to Atli's mid-back. "You really think you started anything? I would've had you one way or another." He hooks his right finger experimentally and the whole base of Atli's spine lifts, as if trying to get it deeper inside again. "So just lie there and try to like it. That's your only choice here." He can feel the spine shifting under his brother's muscles. It's not just nervous excitement making him move like this, and it's nice watching it.

The thought brought up by his own words is less pleasant. His nails dig into Atli's back for a second.

"Nobody's tried, has he? Any of those pigs we run around with ever try getting after you?"

"Stop talking," Atli begs. "I barely know what we're doing, how d'you expect—fuck!"

"It's that good?" He wasn't really expecting this part to be much fun. More of a boring but necessary part. The feeling around in a slowly widening cow vagina before you can pull out the calf.

"I don't know. Weird. Don't stop."

And here Torgrim used to wonder how men ever found a willing partner for this. He assumed they just finished their business with the hole and then paid the other man back somehow. Looks like it's not so bad on the other end after all.

He keeps putting more oil in, as well as he can without taking his finger out. Atli's not talking much now; even when Torgrim warns him about the second finger, all he gets back is a set of tensed shoulders, bracing for whatever the new feeling is going to be. He can feel the muscles in his brother's back tightening up along with his breathing.

"Relax," Torgrim tells him. "I'm not going in if you can't calm down."

"I'm fine. It's just, not knowing what it'll be like..."

"Relax. Don't I always keep your back side safe?"

"Hm." Atli's haunches loosen on the exhale, opening up the space for a second finger.

"Look at you." Something close to reverence slips into Torgrim's voice. "That backline." He's not sure what parts of a man are supposed to be attractive. He's not sure when anything—everything—about his little brother started screaming sex at him. "These _hips._ "

"‘S called bragging, when you praise something in your own family."

"Don't get smart with me. You'd be saying the same thing if you were sitting here."

"You think..." There's a shade of anxiety in Atli's voice, but there's nothing hesitant about the way he's moving. "You think it's really gonna fit?"

"This happens all time. We know they go in." And it looks like it's a lot more fun than anyone talks about. "If you can't take what I've got, then no one can." Torgrim keeps rubbing his brother's back. He's not sure exactly how things work in there, but he can feel the right muscles relaxing around the fingers of his other hand.

"You'd better do it now," Atli says suddenly, after a moment's silence.

"Now? I've got a lot more oil to go through."

"I'm ready now."

Torgrim casts a nervous look at all the unused bottles. But he's not sure how much of it's going to fit up there to start with. There's already a lot that's just leaked out onto the straw. "Get up on your knees for a bit."

"Brother," Atli says, when he's most of the way in. It's thick, shaky. Demanding. This is how he says it when he's getting fucked. It's funny hearing it like this, the first time. He's not really asking for anything. He knows he doesn't have to. He just wants Torgrim to hear him say it.

It is pretty fucking hot. Torgrim thinks about pulling his hair—he's growing it in longer, lately—but he's not sure how much men are meant to get their hair pulled in bed. He'd better check that later. 

"Brother," he says back, just as shakily, and sees Atli squeeze his hands harder into the straw.

Braced against the packed straw, Atli holds him up for a few seconds as he finds his balance. Then, taking them down flat, Torgrim takes a few seconds to explore his brother's wrists, feeling the fight that could be in them but never will be, against him.

He's not sure how hard you can go like this, when you have a partner you're trying not to hurt. But with his brother trembling in his arms like a newborn lamb, he's not about to risk any mistakes. He squashes a flash of homicidal feeling at the idea of someone risking a mistake with Atli—anyone else holding him and even _thinking_ of being careless. 

He might be feeling a little murderous over this faceless man so much as holding his brother. He'll have to check that later.

"Need to go harder," he says, when he can't slow himself down any longer.

"I can feel," Atli says hoarsely. "Think I can't tell what you're doing behind my back?"

They always know, before the other even moves. "You're ready?"

"Yeah. I want you to." A second of hesitation. "Not too hard. I—I don't know how this..."

"Of course not." Torgrim gives the back of his neck a kiss. "We're figuring this out. You just tell me."

It's Atli who wants it harder next time. He's always such an eager little thing once you get him started. And Torgrim's not just humoring him when he moves into the new rhythm. But when Atli starts grinding back against him, begging for it even harder, Torgrim balks.

"Take it easy," he says, slowing to a crawl to make sure his brother can't hurt himself. "We don't know how much you need to pace yourself."

"Deeper, then." Atli's shoulder blades are tight against Torgrim's chest, from pushing up into him. "It feels close."

When Atli pushes him down into the straw afterwards, Torgrim lets him. It's like getting played with by a kitten that thinks he's doing a real big-boy hunting job. A few gentle nips and a tentative kiss on the lips that he has to be pulled down into before he commits. Torgrim's not worried about softness or anything; he knew Atli would be like this after getting fucked. He always held back when they used to tussle as kids. It's just family loyalty shining through, nothing that keeps him from asserting himself with the other boys. So he guides his little brother's arms into a tighter grip around him, holding out the prey for Atli to bat around and play at catching for himself. And gets in a good squeeze too, while he's at it.

"Not too sore?"

"I think I will be." Atli buries his face in his shoulder. "Ugh, I want to wake up with you. You think they'll miss us?"

"We could be off fucking anyone. They've caught us enough times with someone in the middle." He's not sure how he feels about those memories now. Jealous doesn't seem quite right, when it was exactly what he wanted at the time.

"Waking up's going to be different forever, isn't it." Atli's nearly talking into his armpit now. "I'm sorry."

"If you apologize one more time I'm going to start worrying. I told you, I got sick of sharing you. No one else gets to have you anymore. That's all."

Atli's voice is soft with relief. "All right." It's still into Torgrim's armpit, his breath tickling almost as much as the mustache. He's not holding Torgrim down anymore but sinking into him, being held.

Torgrim pushes up with his knees first and then lets go of Atli to lift his chest off. Rolling over onto his side, he lets his brother drop down gently, a few inches away in the straw. Face to face on their sides, he gives Atli's shoulder a squeeze. "Come on. You're going to sleep a Norseman."

"I'm fine." Atli shrugs his hand off. "You just make a good pillow."

"Don't ever tell me you're sorry for something with your arsehole all stretched out and sore. You got that?" Acting like this when Torgrim's the one who put him here.

"I'm not that sore." But Atli reaches for his face and leaves his hand there a second before it slides down to squeeze his shoulder back. "Yeah, fine. If you say so."

"If you're really looking for something to apologize for..." Torgrim touches his chin, tilting it up to check his face in the starlight. "Try that night you put me through before you came to your senses."

"What was I supposed to do? You didn't give me any warning, I'd never even thought about—not really, anyway—but how was I supposed to just jump into..."

"You have any idea what I went through, you telling me to fuck off on my own after all that staring at me, touching my hands when I'm getting off—rubbing up on me when I'm half asleep and all I can smell is my little brother's..."

"You're warm," Atli says, not speaking over him this time. "You're so warm in the mornings, I wasn't trying to... I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Torgrim tries once more to force it all back and feels himself fail again. "I just thought I must be losing my fucking mind, because how could you be asking me for anything else, and then when I'm ready to give it you can't stand the sight of me anymore—"

"I wasn't rejecting you forever." Atli takes hold of his face with both hands this time and stares at him, anxious. Torgrim lets his own hand fall back to his side. "Even if I hadn't decided to—to do this, I'd never treat you any different. We'd just have been like we always were."

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure."

"I mean, if you turn a girl's father down, or you break off the engagement, you don't have to change how you act around them. It doesn't have to ruin things between you. You know how it is, don't you?" Atli looks too young, like he always does when he's afraid. Something in his eyes.

"Right," Torgrim lies, and pulls his stupid, innocent little brother in close. He doesn't feel like letting the world crush this particular delusion out of him. Not tonight. "This is one engagement you're not breaking. Look at what you do to me. Take some responsibility."

Atli wriggles his head out of Torgrim's chest, like he used to do when he lost at wrestling. "You're proposing after a single roll in the hay?"

"I want you to know you'll be provided for." Atli's shoulders are so much smaller than his. Right now they fit perfectly in his arms. It's never been a problem for them. No reason to think it ever will be. "Nothing's going to happen, of course."

"Of course not. Stop teasing." This nip's harder than the ones he was giving earlier, which is license to return the favor, in Torgrim's opinion.

They'll have to get dressed before they go to sleep, and sleep near each other, not with. But for now, there's still a little more time alone, and a little more starlight to watch by.


End file.
